


Conversations are difficult

by Chlerys



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alwaysagirl!Stiles, Awesome Sheriff Stilinski, Derek is an idiot, F/M, Girl!Stiles, Teen Pregnancy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-09
Updated: 2014-06-09
Packaged: 2018-02-04 01:49:57
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,245
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1762223
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Chlerys/pseuds/Chlerys
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sheriff Stilinski can track Stiles' changes through a series of short, confusing non-conversations. Some went well, some could've gone better. One he wishes never occurred.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Conversations are difficult

When Stiles was younger, before Claudia had died, John hadn't worried too much about the logistics of raising a daughter. His wife was naturally good with people, with Stiles, she had always had the answers. To everything.

Claudia handled the first few conversations much better than he ever could. Like when Stiles wanted to be called Stiles. Or when she didn't want to wear dresses or skirts. And when the doctors' had diagnosed her with ADHD. John had been present for the conversations but back then his only job was to be a beacon of love and acceptance. But most importantly; silence.

He wasn't very good with conversations.

Then his wife passed and John was left with Stiles. Alone in a house that looked and smelled like Claudia, but she wasn't there. That should have been his first conversation with Stiles. But before he knew it years went by and Stiles was 11 and in love.

The conversation itself is a little fuzzy, he remembers there was a lot of gushing and grinning and giggling going on while John was trying to tell his bouncing daughter that liking a girl named Lydia was okay and nothing bad at all, no matter what anyone said. To this day he's reasonably sure Stiles had had no idea what he was talking about.

The third conversation was a whole lot more awkward and involved a crying of a different kind. Stiles was 12 and convinced she was dying of severe blood loss. John remembers that much more clearly because Stiles had made him do research. With graphs, diagrams and a complete breakdown of the female reproductive system. Soon followed by the male one.

Another year passed and people, in increasing amounts, had started to comment on Stiles' behaviour and clothes. It was finally the town's biggest busybody who informed him that while it was okay for children to run around in dirty old sweaters, young ladies should be dressed more nicely. John didn't particularly agree but armed with visual aides and a five pages of pros and cons he tried to sell the idea to his wayward daughter.

He found a 20 page dissertation on gender roles and why they shouldn't exist on his desk a few days later. And a bill for three brand new sweaters.

When Stiles turned 14 John thought about having The Talk. Another awkward conversation in his immediate future and he'd started to half heartedly look up some graphs and pamphlets before he realized Stiles liked Lydia. Which meant there was an entire unnecessary part of that conversation they didn't even need to have. In stead he dropped some pamphlets around the house in both expected and unexpected places. John considered it a win when Stiles avoided him for the better part of a week.

As it turns out, he probably should have had that conversation.

Almost two years had passed since that disaster and it was a night like pretty much any other when John came home to find Stiles on the couch, eyes red and wet. She was clutching the tails of her rumpled shirt in two tight fists and looked as if she was carrying the weight of the world on her shoulders.

John sagged into the couch opposite of hers, staring a little wide eyed. “Stiles?” he whispered.

“I'm so sorry dad, I really- I didn't mean-” she sniffed and swallowed hard before wiping at her eyes. She then slowly pointed at the low coffee table between their two couches and pushed a small plastic tube a little bit farther toward his side of the table. John didn't have to look at it long before he knew what it was, he remembered it quite clearly when 17 years before Claudia had waved around a tube just like it, beaming with joy.

He closed his eyes and rubbed his forehead, sagging back. It was quiet, except for Stiles' sniffles and a soft hiccup. “How-” he finally leaned forward looking at the hunched form of his daughter “how could you be so stupid?” his hand hovered over the pregnancy test for a second before clutching the edge of the table. He didn't want to touch it.

“I wasn't, dad, I swear!” she said, back to clutching her plaid shirt “I don't know- we always used protection, we- he was careful.” she was now looking at a point past his shoulder, not daring to look him in the eye and not daring to look at the test on the table.

“Obviously not careful enough-” John muttered rubbing his forehead again “is this why you've so depressed lately?” he knew he should've asked about it long before today, but he'd been so busy and Stiles had seemed so far away for the past year now.

She hiccuped again, trying to keep in her tears and cleared her throat before she shook her head slowly. “No we bro- he,” she had to clear her throat before being able to continue “he dumped me.” she coughed.

“Because you told him?” John prompted

“No, dad.” she bit out, almost like a growl her fists tightening again “I just found out- out- about- this. He doesn't know.” she looked away, ashamed. John sighed, part of him wanted to reach out and comfort her, but another part was so disappointed and just needed to get the story straight.

“I didn't even know you were dating someone long enough for- for-” he vaguely waved in her general direction.

“He isn- _wasn't_ someone you'd approve of.”

“Yes well I don't approve of this either!” he shouted and immediately regretted it when she flinched back. John relaxed back into the couch. “I'm sorry Stiles, but you need to tell me now.” he waited until she faced him and nodded “Lets just- how long were you together?”

“7 months, 2 weeks, 4 days and 3 hours.” the answer seemed to have fallen out unintentionally. Stiles looked stricken.

“From July to January.” John nodded “you seemed very happy.”

“I was.” she replied and one hand had stopped mangling her shirt and was now softly resting on her stomach, a soft not-smile on her face before she realized what she was doing and drew back.

“Stiles, who was it?”

“Just- Just promise you won't be- don't blame him okay? It was all me.” she said and now her brown eyes turned into gooey puppy browns. John's gaze turned incredulous.

“How bad could it possibly be?” he asked “You don't have to be ashamed if-”

“Derek.” she interrupted and quickly looked away, biting her lip. He was momentarily lost for words.

“What?” he whispered “Derek? Derek _Hale_? The murder suspect?” she nodded “The- the 23 year old murder suspect?”

“24”

“Stiles!”

“He broke up with me on his birthday.”

For a long while everything was quiet, John's brain slowly tried to process. Then he abruptly stood and walked to the cabinet on the far wall, grabbing a bottle of whiskey and a glass. He sat back down and poured himself a generous amount. “God, Stiles.” he said before downing the entire glass.

“Did- Did he force you?”

“What? Dad no!” Stiles interrupted, cheeks flushed “no, everything was completely consensual, I swear dad,” she said, her voice pleading “he- he never did anything I wasn't 100% okay with.” she cleared her throat “except the dumping part. I wasn't even 1% okay with that.”

“I-” John poured himself another glass “ _Derek Hale?_ ” he repeated “He's bad news Stiles, even if he was exonerated he's still a person of interest, not to mention a suspect in Kate Argent's death. He- what did you possibly see in him?”

“Are you really asking- have you _looked_ at him?”

“I have actually,” John bit out “in handcuffs, through bars, wanted posters, mugshots although those never took. Do I have to keep going?”

“Please don't.”

“And that's a little vain, isn't it? Because he's a good looking guy? Minus the stubble, the glaring, the never smiling _and the fact he's 24_!”

“It's not just that,” she said, hackles rising “though it doesn't hurt. He's- nice.”

“Nice.” he repeated

“And he has a nice laugh!”

“I-” John dropped his head in his hands “and- in those seven months you two dated did it ever occur to you that it's illegal?”

“Well it wasn't at first!”

“Apparently not for long!” John pointed at the pregnancy test “you'd think a 25 year old would kno-”

“24. And he did know. We always used protection, dad. I already said.” John sighed again and leaned back.

“Is he why you suddenly,” he waved at her “bought new clothes?”

Stiles cleared her throat and touched her shirt and jeans self-consciously “He wasn't the only reason,” she said “I- I was just tired of people thinking I was just one of the guys. Lydia helped.”

“Lydia?” John questioned “Lydia Martin? You know what? About that! I thought you _liked_ Lydia!” John can't really pinpoint the moment 'liking Lydia' became synonymous for the phrase 'I thought you were gay.'

Stiles scowled “Well, I thought so too! But apparently I also like-” she blushed “non-Lydia persons. And Lydia and I are just- sort of friends now, I guess.”

“You've been talking about that girl, non stop, for almost 7 years and now you're just sort of friends because of Derek Hale?” when his daughter shrugged he added “the 24 year old felon?”

“What's your biggest problem, that he's 24 or that he's a felon?” Stiles demanded crossed her arms in front of her.

“I find both almost equally problematic, mostly because you're barely 17 and he got you pregnant.”

That seemed to have been the wrong thing to say, John figured when Stiles' arms fell to her lap and she just broke down into heaving sobs. He dropped the glass on the coffee table and quickly went to sit next to her, holding her hand.

“Dad- what am I supposed to do?” she whispered between hiccups and fat tears “I'm not- I'm not a mum, I'm not- I don't want- dad.” and she threw her arms around his neck hiding against his chest. John could feel her tears soak through his uniform.

“It's going to be okay Stiles,” he whispered hugging her closely “we'll- we'll figure something out.” It took a while for Stiles to calm down enough to lean back. John cleared his throat as he put a few stray hairs behind her ear “You could-” he sighed and continued carefully “consider to have it removed?”

Stiles was already shaking her head “I can't do that,” she said, a hand resting on her belly again “I know it's not technically a human yet, but I just- I can't.”

John nodded “Okay. We'll figure something out.”

They sat like that for a while. Stiles had one hand on her belly and the other being held by her dad while they sat close together in a half-held hug. Eventually John broke the silence.

“You're going to have to tell him too, you know.”

“I know.” she sniffles, rubbing her nose with her shirt sleeve.

 

* * *

 

Derek Hale was easy enough to recognize, even in the badly lit parking lot. Tall, muscled, continuously scowling. For a moment John tried to imagine how Hale would look like standing next to his daughter, the height difference alone. He shook his head, Hale and his daughter weren't really things he wanted to contemplate in detail. Knowing the consequences was more than enough.

Hale was just putting a few grocery bags into the trunk of his ridiculously expensive car. Bad boys with nice cars, he'd never expected Stiles to fall for that stereotype. John sighed and straightened, nothing else but to go forward now.

“Derek Hale?” he called, stepping closer to the young man. John could see his shoulders tense and how he almost immediately leaned toward the right, as if was a second away from fleeing. Not a bonus point in the sheriffs book. But he turned around in stead, neutral expression on his face.

“Sheriff Stilinski,” he nodded and said calmly “you're out of your jurisdiction.”

John wasn't sure if that was a defence, a statement or an accusation but for his daughter's sake he'd take it as an observation. “So are you, you're a difficult man to track down,” he paused for a split second, but Derek's face remained remarkably innocent and pleasantly interested “In fact I had to call in some favours and put up an APB on your car.”

Then Hale's shoulders tensed and John noticed his eyes scanning for an escape route. John was not getting the best impression of the father of his grandchild. “I didn't know the police were looking for me, _again_.” John's eyebrows shot to his hairline, had Hale just made a reference to the time Hale was a murder suspect and on the run? Though, admittedly they hadn't been able to find him. Another point in the expanding column of why Derek Hale was bad for his daughter.

“We're not.” John said “but my daughter is. For the last two weeks now.”

Hale's shoulders sagged and he let out a long breath, he looked momentarily lost. “She told you.” it didn't sound accusing but rather as if he was preparing for the worst and maybe a little relieved. Until then Hale's eyes had been steadily looking in John's general direction but now he avoided looking anywhere near him.

“Yeah,” John said, the anger sounding through his strained voice “it came up in a larger conversation. One I didn't think I'd ever have with my daughter, for decades at least. Can't decide if I'm really angry or just really disappointed.” Hale still wasn't looking at him “I'm calling it the 'Dad I'm pregnant, please don't be mad' conversation just so we're all clear.”

Now Hale's entire body whipped around to face John. It would've been funny, except it really wasn't. His eyes were wide and mouth a little open in a rather unattractive way.

“Like I said. Your name came up.” John finally let the angry glare come through “and I was the one who told her she should tell you, up front as soon as possible since I thought you were a grown man. Looks like I was wrong, doing your shopping three towns over, could you be running any further before moving to another state altogether?”

Hale gaped at him “I- I didn-” he started but John didn't let him get any further.

“No, I really don't care about what you right now,” he stepped toward Hale “what you're going to do is get in your car, drive to my house and I know you know where it is, get inside with this key,” John pushed it into Hale's hands “you'll leave it on the dresser after you get in, you'll hang your jacket and take off your shoes Stiles cleaned the house today and then you're going to give my daughter this,” he pushed a bucket of strawberry cheesecake ice cream into Derek's arms “and then you're going to talk to her. In a friendly voice. And I'll be home in two hours, do you understand?”

Hale continued to stare at John's face for a moment before he stammered “Stiles doesn't like strawberry cheesecake, she likes bubblegum and hazelnut.” the response came almost automatic, as if Stiles had drilled her preferences into his brain.

“She does when she's pregnant. Now get going.” Hale, apparently, didn't need to be told twice.

As John saw the ridiculously expensive car leave the parking lot Derek's hasty “Stiles doesn't like strawberry cheesecake, she likes bubblegum and hazelnut.” came back to him. Was that a point in the 'maybe Derek Hale isn't so bad column'?

No. Definitely not.

 

* * *

 

Derek opened the door rather slowly, his mind hadn't really processed everything sheriff Stilinski had said, or implied. The words Stiles and Pregnant seemed to be pounding inside his skull. Even his wolf seemed completely confused.

He could hear Stiles in the other room adjacent to the hallway. The kitchen, Derek remembered well the evenings they'd spend there when John Stilinski'd been at work. He closed the door and Stiles had apparently heard when she called out.

“Dad! You're late!” Derek closed his eyes as he let the sound of her voice wash over him, he felt more relaxed now then he had in 3 months “hang your coat and take off your shoes,” Stiles continued, oblivious and Derek toed off his shoes and shrugged out of his jacket “So- I asked around for Derek today but no one's seen him.” he paused, suppressing the guilt coiling in his stomach.

Stiles went on, although much quieter, murmuring to herself “Well, they've seen him. They just don't want to tell me where or when or why he doesn't want to see me. He dumped me, he shouldn't have a problem seeing me.” he could hear her shuffling around the kitchen “and Erica was a complete bitch, as usual. It's not like I can help it that I never picked up on her crush on me last year, how was I supposed to know?” he heard her put a few things down and wipe something clean before she raised her voice again and coming out to the hallway.

“Why aren't you coming into the kitchen? Also a letter from the administration came today, I haven't opened it but I think-” her voice became louder and louder until she was in the doorway, staring at Derek, she was wearing her normal clothes; jeans, t-shirt and plaid shirt hanging open and two mismatching socks finished the outfit. She was holding a towel, obviously she'd been drying the dishes. “D- derek?”

They stared at each other for a long time, drinking in the sight of each other before Derek moved forward, not breaking the eye contact. She didn't flinch back or reacted negatively when he knelt down in front of her, staring up into her eyes and slowly putting both his hands on the tiny, almost invisible bump on her belly.

 

* * *

 

John came home not in two hours but in one and a half. There was only so much aimless driving around you could do while worrying yourself sick about your daughter and her much older ex-boyfriend, who also knocked her up.

He opened the front door quietly, listening for conversation. A part of him hoped for violent shouting and maybe his girl throwing plates and sharp objects in her pregnant fury. Alas, everything was quiet. For a moment John thought maybe they'd gone to her room, if they had he might actually have to grab his shotgun out of the hallway closet, from behind a wall of old boxes.

But they were in the living room in stead. Also no pregnant rage. John stared at his daughter, peacefully asleep in the arms of Derek Hale. One arm hung around his neck and the other hand rested on the small bump under her shirt. That hand was covered in Hale's much larger one, their fingers laced together.

When John entered the room, he couldn't help but notice Hale instinctively clutching her closer, as if protecting her but when the man looked up and recognized John he relaxed again. The silence was awkward and heavy, Hale didn't look anywhere near John, guilt written all over his face and shoulders. Stiles slept on, calm for the first time in weeks.

John merely sighed and turned to go to bed. 

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this quite a while ago and just now decided to post it. It's unbeta'd and stuff so not much more than a rough draft. I'm not sure if I'll continue this or leave it as it is. 
> 
> (Reviews are love!)


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